What Family Is For
by LilyBolt
Summary: This is a series of drabbles (or just stories under 1000 words) set in various seasons with a multitude of different characters. Potential spoiler warnings given at the start of each chapter. Not a slash fiction. Requests/suggestions are welcome! :)
1. Hospital Beds

**Author's Note: This drabble takes place sometime between the start of season 1 and the end of season 3, but there are no spoilers for anything. It was inspired by the song "Hospital Beds" by Cold War Kids. :) Particularly these lyrics:**

_**"I've got one friend, laying across from me,**_

_**I did not choose him, he did not choose me.**_

_**We've got no chance, for recovery,**_

_**Sharing a hospital, joy and misery."**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

* * *

When Sam wakes up in a hospital bed his first coherent thought is always the same… _Dean_. It is a word that accurately describes the feeling he experiences at knowing his brother is there with him, because he _does_ know that. Never before has Sam awoken alone and he has no reason to believe he ever will.

The familiar figure of his worried older sibling is always within arm's reach when he opens his eyes, as though moments before he had held his little brother's hand in the hope of providing a link to pull Sam back to the waking world. To show him he is safe. To show him he is there, right there, and he isn't leaving Sam any time soon.

Dean is the first thing Sam's eyes find when they open and the last thing they see before he allows himself to close them once more. Sam is reassured by that presence. By the knowledge that he can rest safely under the watchfulness of his determined life-long guardian.

* * *

When Dean opens his eyes in a hospital room his mind has one immediate setting. _Sammy_. Yet he always waits before he looks to the chair near the bed. He waits and forces himself not to hope. In those confused moments between unconsciousness and wakefulness Dean can never recall if Sam will be there or not. He only ever allows himself to think he won't be. It hurts too much when he is wrong in believing Sam will be there.

Too many hospital visits while Sam was at Stanford did he awaken to find the chair empty. No one sitting vigil so as to be there when Dean came to. No little brother there to look relieved that his older sibling had survived whatever event had landed him in the medical establishment. No Sammy.

But there are times when Dean is wrong in choosing to believe he is alone…Glorious moments during which Dean awakens to find the chair near the bed occupied by a familiar worry-worn face. He sees a watery pair of puppy-dog eyes staring at him through a mop of tussled hair, like a hand had been combed through it too many times out of nerves.

And no matter his injury and no matter anything else that might be going on... Because his little brother is there and that means things can't be too bad. Sammy is with him, and only then does Dean allow himself to relax.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thank you for reading! :D So this drabble is the first in what will be a series of them. They won't go in any particular order. I just decided I didn't want to keep posting drabbles as individual stories, so I've decided to post them all here when I write them. There will be a multitude of characters, seasons, etc... Warnings for any spoilers will be included in the Author's Notes for each chapter. There will also be no set schedule for posting, since I'm really using this to store my drabbles. However, I can promise there will be more! Finally****, I am open to requests. Like, if you want to give me a word I should incorporate into a drabble, that could be really fun. :) And please take a moment to leave your feedback! I appreciate reviews immensely. ;) **


	2. Rock Paper Scissors

**Author's Note: This is for the amazing mb64, who challenged me with two words to incorporate into my drabble. There words were "hundred" and "shivering". I hope this was a satisfactory use of those words! :) Also, there are no spoilers of any kind in this drabble. I want to thank FraidyCat1234, mb64, flygirl33, reannablue, a Guest, and TG for their reviews and support. And thanks to any who read this! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Sam and Dean had just spent the better part of a cold winter night searching a cemetery for a grave site, digging up said grave site, and then alternating between finishing the dig and fending off one seriously aggressive spirit of a deceased soccer mom.

By the end of the job snow had begun to fall around them and the wind had kicked up into high gear. They were both battered, wet and shivering by the time they had reached the Impala, and never before had two men been so grateful for the invention of car heaters.

They drove back to the motel with barely a few words shared between them, too tired to think straight let alone carry on a coherent conversation.

However, upon reaching their destination of 'Home Suite Home Inn' the groggy brothers became noticeably more alert, all but clambering toward the door. Each was eager to claim the shower before the other. In cheap places like this motel hot water ran out fast, and neither man found the idea of washing in frigid water to be very enticing.

They entered their room simultaneously, and reached the bathroom door at the same time. Their hands both touched the handle, and finally, Dean spoke.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" the older Winchester asked with one eyebrow raised. Sam nodded and Dean didn't miss the flash of hope in his younger brother's eyes.

They each placed a closed fist on a flat palm and pounded three times before forming with their hand their weapon of choice for this age-old battle.

Almost immediately Sam pumped his hand into the air. "Ha! Rock beats scissors Dean. Again. How do you not get that by now?" the younger man said with more enthusiasm than he had demonstrated since they had started working that night.

Dean grimaced and stepped aside, allowing Sam access to the bathroom and the coveted hot water.

"Seriously, we could try and simplify the rules for you if you're finding them too hard…" Sam teased as he closed the door to the tiny room.

"Ha-ha. Very funny. Try saying that next time when I kick your rock's ass with industrial scissors or something!" Dean called over his shoulder as he crossed the room to sit on his twin bed and await his turn at the soon-to-be-cold shower.

But he was smiling just a little.

Remembering how Sam had worked himself as hard as he could that night alongside Dean…Well, the older Winchester felt that a warm shower was the least he could do to repay his kid brother for always sticking it out with him, even when things got dangerous, freezing and miserable.

If Dean had a hundred dollars for every time he had intentionally lost rock paper scissors to give Sammy something he wanted or deserved…

But as things stood, Dean already felt like a very rich man indeed.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I am totally open to more suggestions/requests of a word ****or words **to include in a drabble. And reviews are greatly appreciated! :D The next post should be up around Thursday, since my finals will be done by then. *throws mini party* Thanks again everyone! :) 


	3. Unnecessary Guilt

**Author's Note: This is for TG, who requested I incorporate the word "gentle" into a drabble regarding the lovely Sam Winchester. :) Well here it is! This drabble takes place as a sort of tag scene to 8x14 "Trial and Error", so spoilers are DEFINITELY in here for that episode. It happens shortly after Sam kills the Hellhound that scratched Dean. I want to thank kjdw, ImpalaLove, jojospn, mb64, judyann, FraidyCat1234, flygirl33, and ebondywarrior85 for their recent amazing reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Dean wondered what he had ever done to upset his giant little brother.

Because Sam _was_ upset and Dean knew it. He could see it in the way his shoulders were tense and his jaw was clenched. He was avoiding looking Dean in the eye too, which was almost worse than if he had been glaring daggers...

Dean wasn't quite sure why Sam was so unhappy though. The kid had wanted to try and help with the Hell trials a few hours ago...Dean was the one who should feel upset about how things turned out! He had wanted _so_ badly to keep Sam from being involved, but had ultimately failed and been forced to watch his little brother take over for him. And now Sam was stuck with the task of closing the gates of Hell himself...

But wasn't that something Sam had wanted earlier that night? So why did he seem so bothered now?

Dean's thoughts were interrupted as Sam approached; finally ready to get started on the stitches.

Normally Dean had a policy of not letting people who were gritting their teeth like they wanted to bite something proceed with sewing up his flesh. But this was Sam, and so he didn't object when the younger hunter set to work stitching his torso.

Sure enough, from the moment he began working Sam's hands were gentle. A bit shaky like he was struggling to control himself, but careful. He clearly had no intention of taking his frustration out on Dean physically.

In fact, Sam's movements were extra reserved. As if he was actually afraid he would hurt his brother. He was pale and breathing kind of heavy. Like he was scared, not angry. The phrase "just seen a ghost" came to Dean's mind.

Except it hadn't been a ghost, because of course that wouldn't have put Sam off at all. But it _had_ been a Hellhound ripping at his brother's stomach, just before…

_ Oh._

Suddenly Dean knew. He knew why his brother's shoulders were tense and why he wasn't looking Dean in the eye, but he was still glancing at him every chance he got.

And it definitely wasn't because his little brother was angry with him.

"Sam, thanks." Dean spoke, his tone serious. "I know I've been a dick about you taking this trials crap on, but what you did back there for me…What you saved me from... Just, thanks."

Sam looked up from his stitching for a moment, a little surprised, then glanced away again.

"I had a chance to get it right this time. I wasn't going to pass that up." the younger man said with a slightly haunted look.

Dean wasn't sure what to say to that. Maybe because he couldn't believe that after all this time Sam still managed to harbor unnecessary guilt over the Hellhound incident from years before that wasn't even his fault...But of course, this _was_ Sam...

"You never got it wrong Sammy. Not ever." Dean finally stated with as much sincerity as he could muster while trying not to sound awkward.

At that, Sam's shoulders loosened and his hands steadied. He looked Dean in the eyes at last.

"Is that your way of finally admitting I'm always right?" the younger man said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dean just rolled his eyes.

"Cute, Sammy. Real cute. Just finish my damn stitches already, would you?"

"Not a good idea to rush the guy sewing your skin back together, Dean." Sam retorted calmly.

And Dean wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a nice little brother.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I love feedback and suggestions/word incorporation requests, so please don't be shy! ;) **


	4. Wreckage

**Author's Note: This is part one of my fulfillment for GuestJ, who gave me a request for a drabble including the word "home". I did my best to get creative with that idea. ;) This drabble takes place during the season 2 premier "In My Time Of Dying", while Sam visits Bobby's place to get the stuff for John, and while Dean is in a coma. I want to thank ****mb64, jojospn, SPNxBookworm, flygirl33, TG, and GuestJ for their recent awesome reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Sam stood alone in the scrap yard of Singer Salvage as he stared at the wreckage of the Impala, shocked by the way the once sleek black frame was now a mess of crumpled metal and jagged silver scratches.

It looked broken and battered, lying there before him so unbearably lifeless, and Sam fought the urge to break down just thinking about how strong it had once been. The way the Impala had carried him through his entire life and now might be facing the end of its own...

It was the Impala that had carted him away from the ashes of his old dorm. From Jess, and Stanford, and the rush of depression that had threatened to consume him that night.

It was that '67 Chevy that had been with him through his slow recovery from the loss. Through his angry moments and his sadness. Through the times when he couldn't sleep without having nightmares, and for the times he just couldn't sleep period.

The vehicle had been there for him. Taken care of him. It had saved his life and wherever the Impala was, that was home...

Sam's eyes were welling with tears now as he struggled to regain his composure.

He couldn't let himself think like that. The Impala wasn't dead. Damaged, yes. But gone forever? That wasn't even an option.

Sam wiped at his eyes a few times and cleared the tears, taking a deep breath and pulling himself together once more. He wouldn't give up on the thing that had always been there for him when he needed it most.

And so he turned and headed back to the hospital, determined to find a way to save his older brother.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Yes, I was hinting at Sam seeing Dean's comatose/near-dead condition in the sight of the busted Impala. ;) Reviews and requests for word incorporations are always welcomed with open arms. :) Also, GuestJ, part two is up next! ;) **


	5. Little Moment

**Author's Note: This is part two of my fulfillment for GuestJ, who had also requested a drabble involving the word "peace". Normally I wouldn't have done both requests in a row like this, but I couldn't resist when this idea struck me. :) This one takes place toward the end of 4x02 "Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester", before Dean talks with Castiel. Thanks to every reader, by the way! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Bobby stood in his kitchen sipping cheap whisky from a glass and staring out at the sleeping figures of the Winchester boys in his living room.

Sam lay stretched out on the couch, his feet sticking out over the end of the too-small item of furniture. Dean was sprawled out on the ground nearby, just covered on the torso by his leather jacket. The men had argued for a while over who got the couch, and eventually played a game of 'rock, paper, scissors' for it.

Sam had won, but he had then felt bad and tried to offer it to Dean, saying he deserved it. By that point Dean wouldn't take the couch, having stubbornly insisted he thought the floor "was more comfortable anyway".

Bobby chuckled to himself as he contemplated the way those men had slipped right back into their brotherly routine.

And then he paused.

It had been a long time since he had chuckled. Or laughed. Or even really smiled for that matter... It had been about four months, truth be told. Four long months of wondering where the youngest of those two men had got to, and knowing where the oldest was but really not wanting to know.

Needless to say his little whiskey habit had gotten more intense over those four months. Bobby had replaced laughter with liquor. It wasn't healthy, and he knew that. But it was all he could do to manage the misery that had filled his life after New Harmony.

Until now.

Now, for the first time in months, Bobby actually felt pretty good. Good enough to chuckle, and to really smile as he looked at the boys he had raised and loved and lost and missed, now sleeping soundly in his living room. Together at last, safe and alive and just _there._ With him.

So although Bobby knew good things like that almost always came at a steep price, and though he was sure that trouble must be waiting just around the corner to do its best to ruin it all…Like the whole 'Rising of the Witnesses' fiasco had just proven...Bobby would be damned if he wasn't going to revel in this little moment of peace while he still could.

With that thought he dumped the last of his whisky in the sink and headed toward the stairs, ready to catch some shut-eye of his own.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Requests and reviews are awesome! ;) **


	6. Just What We Needed

**Author's Note: Spoilers contained for season 8, including episode 8x22 and a little of 8x23. This drabble is for ebonywarrior85, who requested I write a drabble incorporating the infamous words "Saving people. Hunting things. The family business." It was more difficult to include a whole phrase like that, but I had a moment of inspiration and so here is the finished product! I want to thank mb64 and jojospn for their recent reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Sam was quiet on the drive to meet with Crowley, staring out the passenger window. Dean couldn't blame him. Mix the trials crap into the emotional trauma Sam had endured in the past twenty four hours…Basically, neither man had a reason to be enthused about coming face to face with the King of Hell later that evening.

Actually, Dean would have loved the opportunity to meet with the snarky bastard if he had been given the chance to kill him outright, or to fight him at least. But as things stood, their plans were much more complicated.

Sure, tricking Crowley, kidnapping him and turning him into a human again…Curing him of his demonic nature…It would pay him back in the long run. Hell would be sealed. The demons would be dealt with forever. And in the end, they would make sure that Crowley _did_ die. Dean wouldn't stand for any less.

But the prospect of playing the long game was nowhere near as satisfying as jumping in and stabbing him in the gut would be. Not after what he did to their friends. To Jody Mills, who had become like family…

_"What's the line? Saving people. Hunting things. The family business?"_

Crowley's condescending tone replayed in Dean's head, and suddenly a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, Sam. You know Crowley said something mocking to me on the phone back when we were with…Back in Indiana."

Sam glanced away from the window and stared at Dean for a moment.

"He says a lot of things to mock us, Dean." Sam finally replied, looking unhappy to be touching on the events that had led to Sarah Blake's death.

"Not like this." Dean stated. "He said something about our jobs as hunters. I think he used the words 'Saving people. Hunting things. The family business.'"

Sam appeared somewhat exasperated at this point.

"So he's quoting you to make you feel even worse. Is that really a surprise coming from Crowley?" the younger hunter replied tiredly.

"Yeah, but this was different. He was quoting me on something I never said to him. I said that to you, and it was years before we met him." Dean responded.

Sam just shrugged and said, "So?"

"So? So it means he got that quote from somewhere, and it obviously wasn't from actually talking to me. In fact _I_ probably wouldn't even remember saying that to you if it wasn't for me having read it more recently."

"Wait, _read_ it?" Sam questioned, even as understanding was finally dawning on his face.

"Yeah. And I'll give you three guesses _where_ I read it." Dean said pointedly.

"Oh no..." Sam said at last, looking as though he had just swallowed sour milk. "You're not telling me Crowley has been reading Carver Edlund's stuff, are you?"

"Congratulations. You got it in one." Dean deadpanned.

"Great. That's just what we needed! For the King of Hell to have our uncomfortably detailed biographies at his disposal..." Sam said with a roll of his eyes as he went back to staring out the window. "This day just gets better and better…"

As Dean returned his own gaze to the road, he contemplated if it wouldn't be worth it to just stab Crowley in the gut after all.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I've got some requests in line, but more requests for words to incorporate are always welcome! And reviews make my day. :D **


	7. Broken

**WARNING: Spoilers for season 8 finale "Sacrifice"/season 9 premier "I Think I'm Going To Like It Here". **

**Author's Note: This is for mb64, who requested a drabble incorporating the word "dangerous" AND the word "cookies". :) Well here goes! This one takes place while Dean is in the hospital with unconscious Sam, but before Dean met Ezekiel. I want to thank flygirl33, TG, jojospn, and mb64 for their recent support and reviews. And thanks again to every reader! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Dean sat in the stiff hospital chair, hoping, praying, desperate.

An untouched bag of _Famous Amos_ cookies was in his hand; given to him by a nurse about an hour ago, and Dean couldn't even remember if the nurse was hot. Few things could distract Dean from the level of attractiveness of surrounding nurses. However, his little brother dying slowly in front of him, but not slowly enough...That would do it.

And Dean was tired. So, so, unbelievably _tired_.

How many times had he and Sam been here? Him clinging to his little brother. Where he would give anything to save him, and yet there was nothing left to give. Not even his soul this time, because the demons were locked up underground until their King gave them the go-ahead to come out again.

Which wasn't happening anytime soon, since Crowley was currently tied and trussed in the trunk of the Impala. And who knows? Maybe the demons would all stay downstairs forever without their leader to tell them to rise up again…

Dean almost laughed at that. The odds of demons waiting around indefinitely for orders, even if they _were _afraid of the consequences of disobeying Crowley…Well to put it lightly, demons had a reputation, and so did the luck of the Winchesters.

Dean rubbed a shaky hand over his face and then glanced up at Sam, who looked like death warmed over, except his temperature was frighteningly low. When would they just catch a break?

He cared so much about Sammy...

But the kid didn't care about himself much these days. Dean couldn't help but remember that one word Sam had spoken in the old church. The word that had practically stabbed Dean's heart like a blade.

_So?_

It was one word. One stupid word that didn't even have three letters, and yet it carried the weight of all of Sam's soul. And his soul was so heavy. That much was obvious now.

Dean's little brother had been, at one time, a bright and cheerful little boy who would beg Dean for an extra bed-time story or to play hide-and-seek in a dumpy motel room with no place to hide anyway…

But now? God, how had that innocent little boy grown up to be this broken man Dean was looking at? This man who bore the weight of all his imagined sins on his shoulders, and was ok with dying because he couldn't hold it up any more…

And more importantly, how did Sam not see that his sins _were _imaginary? That he was still innocent, even after all he had been through?

_These trials are purifying me._

More of Sam's words found their way into Dean's thoughts. "Purifying you of what, Sammy? Wasn't a hundred years of Hell enough to make up for starting the apocalypse or the souless time or whatever?!" Dean asked his unconscious brother.

There was no answer, but it didn't matter. He knew what Sam would say. The guy had said it before.

_You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was?_

Dean really didn't. He wished he could forget.

_It was how many times I'd let you down. _

Dean had broken at hearing those words. _He_ was the reason Sammy didn't care if he lived or died. He had dedicated his life to protecting Sam from every form of danger, except in the end Dean himself had become the most dangerous thing his little brother could face…

The things Dean had told him. Had callously accused him of or held over his head…If he could take it all back he wouldn't hesitate for a moment. He would grab Sam and tell him exactly how he had forgiven him for Stanford and Ruby and Purgatory…Had never even been truly angry in the first place. He would tell Sam how much he cared about him more than Cas or Benny. More than any other thing in existence, living or inanimate. Hell, Dean would scrap the Impala in an instant if it could somehow save his brother…

Dean sighed and listened to the steady beeping rhythm of Sam's heart monitor, trying not to think about how few beeps might be left.

The first chance he got he would tell his brother how much he loved him.

But for now, Dean sat in a stiff hospital chair, hoping, praying, desperate.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please don't hesitate to make a request, and reviews are greatly appreciated! :D **


	8. Worth Celebrating

**WARNING: ****Spoilers for everything up to, and including, the premier of season 4.**

**Author's Note: This one is for flygirl33, who requested a drabble including the word "Christmas". I quite liked that idea, given the time of year. ;) I want to thank flygirl33, lilliannaelizabeth, mb64, reannablue, Stony Angel, kjdw, jojospn, and TG for their recent reviews and support. And thanks again to all readers! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Sam isn't big on traditional holidays. He never has been.

Christmas in his childhood had generally been a bust and Halloween was something that normally depressed him. Thanksgiving was lonely and Easter wasn't even something he had ever celebrated as a kid, since his father hadn't really been the type for colorful baskets of candy or hiding plastic eggs…

No, Sam doesn't really do the 'holiday spirit' thing. But that doesn't mean there aren't specific days he celebrates. They just don't tend to be the days everyone else gets excited about.

For example, he has celebrated the day of November 17th for more than a few years now.

After leaving for Stanford there was intense silence for nearly three months between Sam and his older brother. So much silence that it was deafening, until Sam finally worked up the nerve to just pick up the phone and give Dean a call.

And his brother had answered.

Even after Sam had abandoned him for a future he claimed he valued more at the time, Dean still had picked up his phone and even sounded happy to talk to his little brother. They talked for hours, and by the time Sam hung up he felt like a weight had been lifted from him that he hadn't even registered was there until, in its absence, he suddenly felt a thousand pounds lighter.

And so November 17th had earned a spot on Sam's list of days that were worth celebrating.

Now on every November 17th, Sam participates in his own version of festivities. He makes a point of having a long talk with his brother, normally about nothing of any importance, and always about something Dean enjoys discussing.

It could be a talk about how to tune the carburetor in the Impala, or why licorice is supposedly a classic movie snack. It really doesn't matter. Whatever the topic, Sam talks and he listens, and he reminds himself how grateful he is that he can still do those things with Dean.

September 28th also made Sam's list.

That was the day Dean made a 'miraculous' recovery from what surely would have been a fatal head injury sustained in what both brothers simply refer to as, 'the accident'.

Sam doesn't like to remember the feeling of being utterly useless as he was carted away from the wreckage of Dean's Baby, screaming at the paramedics to just tell him if his brother was alive or dead.

He doesn't like to recall how out of control he felt when he watched his brother crash in his hospital bed and the doctors needed to run a code.

And Sam definitely doesn't like to think about the shiver that went down his spine when Dean's spirit had used the talking board to tell him a reaper was after him…

So instead of dwelling on the bad things that happened that day he focuses on the good that came from it. Sam uses that day to do something nice for his brother.

It's normally just a simple gesture. Like getting up early to go grab a pie from a local bakery so Dean can wake up to a breakfast he'll enjoy. Or sometimes Sam will go so far as to try and last an entire day without complaining about anything to do with his older sibling, not even when Dean blasts his loud rock music or orders extra onions on his cheeseburger...

Naturally, Dean is always suspicious. Yet so far he hasn't caught onto the pattern.

But Sam prefers it that way anyway. He does it as a sort of unspoken 'thank you' to his brother for having fought so hard to get back to him, and he is content to never have to explain it.

Perhaps the biggest unofficial holiday Sam celebrates began on September 18th of 2008.

On that seemingly average day all of Sam's desperate and angry demands of God came true. On that day, his brother was delivered back to him from Hell.

This Sam-sanctioned holiday is unique because he knows Dean celebrates it too. It is never explicitly mentioned of course, and both brothers are happy to leave it like that.

But somehow an unspoken tradition was born, and every September 18th they climb into their trusty Impala and drive someplace beautiful.

They leave everything behind them, abandoning the stresses of whatever the latest crisis is they're coping with. They drive until they find a place separate from the world that seems almost untouched by man, and then they park and pull out their cooler.

There they sit on the hood of the Impala and waste the day away drinking beer, chatting, and just basking in the fact that they can still be brothers together.

So no, Sam doesn't carve pumpkins to welcome the harvest, or commemorate the pilgrims' lack of starvation with a turkey dinner…

He has more important things to celebrate.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I would love feedback/word incorporation suggestions, if you would be so kind as to leave a review. :) **


	9. Timing

**Author's Note: This drabble is for GuestJ, who requested one including both the word "handcuffs" and the word "snarky". I loved those words and immediately was inspired to write this one. It takes place at no particular point in the show, but I imagined it with Sam and Dean as they were in the earlier seasons, like maybe season 2. I want to thank flygirl33, jojospn, mb64, GuestJ, and reannablue for their recent awesome reviews. And thanks to every reader! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Sam and Dean are in the middle of scouring a thrift store for the curse-box that, at one time, had housed a _very_ cursed soup ladle. The Impala's trunk would contain the bewitched cooking utensil for a while, but not indefinitely. They needed the curse box fast, before any more victims served soup directly into their family's throats. Ladle and all.

Suddenly, bright white light floods across the dark of the thrift store's floor, and Sam knows they're in trouble the minute he sees the headlights flash through the window of the shop. It's the middle of the night, so unless the shop owner had decided to come in for a 2 AM inventory check, it could only mean one thing...

"Cops!" Sam hisses loudly to his older brother who immediately ducks behind a shelf. But it's no use. The cops are out of their vehicle in a flash, quickly entering through the front door that Sam and Dean had pick-locked not thirty minutes prior.

"Freeze! Hands in the air where I can see 'em." The leading officer's voice booms around the previously quiet store. "And if you so much as move a muscle, I'll make you regret not having practiced sittin' still when your mama told you."

The words are spoken by a portly male officer wearing an expression akin to that of a pissed off drill sergeant. A younger female officer stands close by, weapon raised and face set in steely aggression.

The pair looks like they won't tolerate any nonsense, and Sam makes up his mind not to 'move a muscle' as the male officer approaches him slowly, clearly ready to pat him down and then restrain him.

"What exactly are you boys doing in here tonight?" the male officer inquires as he begins to search Sam for any weapons.

And Sam thinks that maybe he and Dean can talk their way out of this one after all. They had spoken with the owner of the store earlier that day, so they knew his name and a little about him…Maybe they could buy some time by playing it off like they were just relatives doing some late-night cleaning? It's not Sam's best plan, but he's done more with less in the past…

Sam is just about to try and convince the officer that he and his brother were in the store for completely benign reasons, when suddenly Dean is talking to the female officer who has been approaching him.

"So I get to be frisked before the cuffs come out, huh? Kinky."

Dean says it with a smirk, and the female officer actually does pause. But not for longer than a split second before she shoves Dean hard against the nearest wall and begins to cuff him.

"Why not just skip to the good stuff?" she says sarcastically as Sam hears the tell-tale 'click' of handcuffs locking around his brother's wrists.

The male officer sees that as his cue, and suddenly Sam finds himself pinned and cuffed as well.

A few minutes later the brothers are bundled into the backseat of a squad car, facing what will no doubt be a very long night.

"Really Dean? You _had_ to make some snarky comment, didn't you." Sam says accusingly.

Dean just shrugs and replies, "Not my fault they can't appreciate awesome comedic timing."

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I've got a little list of requests growing, but I'd greatly appreciate even more! And reviews are equally appreciated. :)**

**Extra Note For GuestJ: I always feel kind of bad that I can't reply directly to your reviews, but I really wanted to say that you've been such a wonderful source of encouragement and support for me in all of my writing, and I really can't thank you enough. You give me excellent requests/challenges and you always have such kind things to say. Again, thank you! ****And a very Happy Christmas (or other holiday) to you my friend! :D **


	10. The Visitor

**Author's Note: First off, sorry it took so long to post on this. After the holidays I was still surprisingly busy... :P Anyway, I'm back now! This is for mb64, who requested "a happy drabble set when the guys are old and gray". Well here it is! :D I want to thank mb64, jojospn, SPNxBookworm, TG, and GuestJ for their recent reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :) **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

The visitor entered the house and walked down the hallway, gazing at the pictures on the wall. He saw an image of a hazel eyed man in a tux smiling up at him next to a woman dressed in a bridal gown, while a second tuxedo-clad man stood in the background, green eyes brimming with pride.

There was a picture of a little girl with green eyes and dirty-blonde hair, holding up a tiny fish still on the hook. She was grinning widely, despite clearly missing her two front teeth. There was a caption below the picture that read "Mary's First Fish: 07/31/2021".

One of the larger photos showed three generations from two full families, all posing in front of a Christmas tree. Two older gentlemen and their wives stood behind their children and their grandchildren…Everyone looked truly pleased to be gathered together.

Seeing it all brought a small smile to the visitor's face.

The pictures on the wall did not tell the tale of the two heroes who had averted the apocalypse, prevented the human race from becoming cattle for Leviathans, and defeated the hosts of both Heaven and Hell…They told the story of the two brothers who had come out the other end of all of that, and still found it inside themselves to set one more goal...The goal of actual happiness.

The brothers found wives and had children, and those children had children…They grew old, which was something neither of the two men had ever expected. They achieved their goal and then some…

The visitor reached the living room and stood in the doorway, watching the same two old men bickering in front of their television set, as their various family members mulled about the living room playing games and carrying on their own conversations.

The taller man was arguing about something that was clearly amusing to the shorter.

"You can't make your New Year's resolution be to not have a resolution! That's so cliché…" The taller said, his shaggy white hair falling into his face as he shook his head at the shorter man in mock-irritation.

"Fine. Then I'm making my resolution to give you a haircut, Mop-Top." the other man replied with a cheeky smile.

The taller man glared, but there was no malice in his stare. This was a well-worn conversation, and both men played along because they enjoyed it.

The visitor hadn't been to check up on these men in a while, but it was clear that not much had changed, and he was satisfied with what he saw. The men were still healthy, happy, and most importantly, they were together.

It was all as it should be, and it was as they had undoubtedly earned.

The visitor took in the cheerful scene before him one last time, smiling again as he watched the elderly brothers teasing each other as their families chattered away around them.

Then, with a soft flutter of wings, he was gone.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I would love more requests/suggestions, so please send them my way if you can! And reviews are equally appreciated. :D **


	11. The First Snow

**Author's Note: This is for flygirl33 who requested "Something set in the snow in winter." Well here it is! The first half takes place when Dean is ten and Sam is six. The second half takes place around season 1 or 2 in my mind. :) I want to thank jojospn, mb64, flygirl33, TG, and kjdw for their recent reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

* * *

Dean was meandering about the scrap yard admiring the way the piles of rusted vehicles had been transformed by a coating of fluffy white snow when he heard his name.

"Hey Dean! You gotta come see this!"

Immediately moving at the sound of his little brother's voice, the older boy tromped through the freshly fallen snow to where his younger sibling stood holding something in his hand, cradling it as if it were a precious gem.

"What is it Sammy?" Dean asked, leaning over his brother's shoulder in curiosity.

Sam held a simple clump of snow in his hands, like a slightly lumpy baseball.

"Dean, this is really special snow. You know why?"

The older boy shook his head and asked, "Why's it special Sammy?"

"It's special because it's the first." Sam stated with pride.

"Did Uncle Bobby try and convince you that was the first snow ever? You know, he's just pulling your leg kiddo…" Dean said, trying to let Sam down lightly.

"No, I mean it's the first snowball of the season!" Sam exclaimed gleefully, and then proceeded to smash the ball of snow in his older brother's face.

Dean turned away from his little brother quickly and hunched over.

"Dean…?" Sam began, cautiously approaching his big brother.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I thought it'd be funny..."

Suddenly Dean turned back around, a bigger ball of snow clutched in his hand.

"Sammy, the thing about snowballs is that you've got to_ throw_ them at people. Otherwise it's like a snow-pie to the face or something, not a ball. You get me?"

Sam nodded but backed away, suspecting where Dean might be headed with the conversation...

Dean raised his arm, snowball at the ready, and Sam took off in the other direction. The younger boy stumbled through the snow, giggling with delight as a ball of white hit a junker to his left.

And the first snowball fight of the season began.

* * *

Sam exited the library and found the ground covered with a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow.

Dean was leaning against the wall by the door, hands tucked in his pocket, whistling some Metallica tune…

"Hey Sammy! Check it out." the older brother said, gesturing to the now white and glistening landscape. "We're at the tail end of the second ice age, that's how long you've been in there…" he teased as Sam approached.

The younger man rolled his eyes as he gazed around. "We haven't actually seen snow in a while. It's weird…Kind of nice though, you know?"

Dean smiled. "So it's our first snow of the season?." he inquired, casually crouching down and pushing some snow around with his hands.

"Yeah. Guess so..." Sam replied distractedly, busy looking out over the city. He never saw it coming.

Suddenly a hand was smashing snow into his face, and the taller man spluttered.

"What the hell was that for Dean?!" Sam exclaimed, wiping at his face and spitting out bits of snow.

"First snow of the season means the first snowball of the season…"

Sam gave his brother a look and said "Really? Are we doing _that_ again?"

Dean laughed and began to walk towards the Impala. "Don't give me that dirty diaper look Sammy. Remember, _you_ started that…"

After a few more steps, a ball of cold exploded over the back of Dean's head, bits of snow falling into his jacket and giving him chills.

He shook his shoulders, trying to rid himself of the remaining snow, as his younger brother passed him by.

"Yours was a snow-pie. _That_ was the first snowball of the season." Sam called back to his older sibling with a smirk. "And don't give me that dirty diaper look Dean. Remember, you started _that_!"

Dean wasted no time in scooping up another handful of snow, and Sam quickly ducked behind a lamp post as a ball of white came hurtling towards him.

And the first snowball fight of yet another season began.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Requests and reviews are greatly appreciated! :D **


	12. Not Just Humans

**Author's Note: This is for GuestJ, who requested something using the word "purpose" and/or the word "quiet". Well, I used both in one go. ;) This takes place sometime after 9x02 "Devil May Care". I want to thank kjdw, jojospn, mb64, GuestJ, flygirl33, and TG for their recent reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.**

* * *

"What do you mean you didn't attack them because you didn't have 'back-up'?" Abaddon spat at the lowly demonic henchman before her.

Her glare was wrathful and the demon wisely chose to remain quiet, fearing for the remainder of his afterlife.

"You are a demon. They're just a couple of lousy humans!" The Knight of Hell shouted, unable to comprehend how this piece of Hell-scum had failed at such a simple task.

It was every demon's instinct to seek out opportunities to murder people, so what was this demon's problem?

At last, the nervous demon spoke up.

"They're not just humans." He said, voice faltering towards the end of his sentence when he looked into the ice-cold gaze of his superior.

"Not just humans?" Abaddon echoed with one eyebrow cocked. "Then what are they, exactly?" she inquired, her tone dripping with the intent to mock.

"They're...Well, they're Winchesters." The demon replied shakily.

Abaddon let out a mirthless laugh before turning away and stating, "They're as good as dead, that's what they are."

The cowardly demon almost let out an actual sigh of relief, believing the conversation to be over. But then Abaddon turned back around.

"And so are you." she said with a cruel smile.

* * *

"Damn humans!"

Abaddon cursed and paced her quarters rapidly, fuming at the knowledge that those two lumbering males had managed to thwart her plans for their destruction.

It was mere hours after her encounter with the brothers from, well not really Hell_..._But if there was a place a demon could go that was designed to frustrate an already twisted soul beyond belief, that was where those brothers had to have come from.

After all, they had somehow managed to not only escape, but also kill several of her soldiers in the process.

Yet they were just _humans_ for crying out loud!

Humans were nothing…They were fools, weak and perishable.

_She_ was a quite-literally-God-forsaken Knight of Hell! It was her sole purpose to wreak havoc on humankind…So how on earth had those two hairless apes managed to get away from her?

Then again, they _weren't_ just humans...

"Damn Winchesters." Abaddon growled from the depths of Hell.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This was posted a little later than I intended, but FF was being if-y about letting me "manage stories". :P Anyway, there will be more chapters up soon! And please don't be shy...Feel free to leave reviews and especially requests. They are appreciated greatly! :D **


	13. Any Old Thursday

**Author's Note: This is for mb64, who requested "a happy drabble about Mary bringing Sam home from the hospital and Dean's reaction to him". I thought it sounded like a sweet idea, so here it is! The time-frame on this is pretty obvious, I'd say. ;) I want to thank jojospn, GuestJ, mb64, flygirl33, A Guest, and carolina888 for their recent awesome reviews and support. And thanks to each and every reader! :D **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

* * *

It's any old Thursday in the little town of Lawrence, Kansas.

People walk the streets and mull about in their living rooms just enjoying the peace of the late-afternoon.

In one particular house with a gnarled old tree out front, a small family celebrates the addition of a new member to their residency.

John Winchester holds the door open for his wife as she brings their baby across the threshold for the first time.

"Welcome to your home Sam!" Mary proudly announces as she walks through the doorway.

She is greeted by the sight of her oldest child bouncing in place next to his baby-sitter. The boy eagerly rushes forward to stand by his mother's side, looking up at the bundle of blankets she holds.

"Is that really him?" he asks, eyes shining with curiosity.

"Yes, Dean. That's your new little brother." His father answers with a smile.

"He's _real_ little." Dean says with a frown. "How am I s'posed to play with him?"

"He might be little now, but he'll grow up to be big and strong just like you, I promise." John says, ruffling the older boy's hair.

Dean looks doubtful about this and Mary has to force herself not to laugh.

"Would you like to say hello to Sam?" she asks instead, slowly kneeling in front of her oldest son.

Suddenly the frown is gone from Dean's face, replaced with a look of complete seriousness. He nods slowly.

As Dean peers into the folds of the blanket his mother presents to him, he sees a squishy pink face and a pair of wide hazel eyes peering back.

The expression on Dean's face softens into awe.

"Hi Sammy. I'm your big brother, and I'm here to take care of you." he states with a level of sincerity beyond his years.

He goes to put a finger in the blankets and finds a small hand poking out. Suddenly his index finger is caught in the surprisingly tight grip of his baby brother's whole fist, and Dean can't hold back his smile.

"I think he heard you." Mary says with a chuckle.

It's any old Thursday in the little town of Lawrence, Kansas.

But for the four year old boy in the house with the gnarled tree, he knows it's the most important day he will ever experience.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Yeah, I've been doing some pretty light/happy/fun drabbles lately. Just a warning, I can never keep that up for too long. There will probably be a feels-puncher soon. lol Also, as always, reviews/requests are welcome! :) **


	14. Cold

**WARNING: Spoilers for season two's "All Hell Breaks Loose" parts 1 _and_ 2.**

**Author's Note: So, I warned you all last time that I couldn't stay light forever, and I was right. lol This isn't from a request. It just sort of happened. It takes place at the end of season 2 during the little span of time between Dean kneeling in the mud with Sam, and Dean giving THAT speech to Sam's body. I want to thank ImpalaLove, jojospn, zekeschance, flygirl33, mb64, carolina888, kjdw, GuestJ, and TG for their recent amazing reviews. And thanks to every reader! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Cold.

As I lay my brother's body out on the old mattress, that's the thought that runs through my head.

He's too damn cold.

It bothers me because, in all his life, that's never been a word to describe my little brother. I mean he's basically the warmest guy I know.

Me? I'm a cocky bastard most of the time to cover up for my mountain of insecurities and self-doubt… But that's never been Sammy.

Sam is the one who, as soon as he learned to read, started offering to read _me_ bedtime stories to repay me for all the times I'd done it for him.

Sam is the guy that always keeps spare change in his back pocket to give to the homeless. And even when I tell him they probably just want the money for booze he says, "Maybe they really need the drink Dean." and then hands over the coins with a smile.

He's the person who people always smile back at, too.

Not in the way that I get. If I flash my teeth at someone it's always a snarl or a flirtation, and whatever I get in return is in accordance with that. For Sam it's different though.

When Sam smiles at someone it's genuine. They know it and so they smile back in a way that lets him really know them. I think it's because he has a smile that actually reaches his eyes...

But right now I'm looking at him lying on this stupid mattress... His eyes are closed and he's not moving and I'm realizing I won't ever see that smile again.

I reach out and grab his hand because I'm not ready to accept that just yet, and I flinch because his hand is like ice.

I finally realize that I'm staring at an empty shell, and all that warmth I've always known is gone.

My little brother is actually gone…

Hot tears make their way down my cheeks and I'm shaking as I cling to Sammy's hand, still cold.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! For those of you who enjoy the lighter stuff, don't worry. I have a few lighter requests in line. ;) ****And of course, I'll be back to writing people's requests next time too. **I just needed to get this out of my system I suppose. lol As always, reviews and requests are greatly appreciated, so fire away! :D  



	15. Enough

**Author's Note: This is for flygirl33 who wanted me to "write something form Sam's POV about the events of Mystery Spot". I tried my best to take that literally. This takes place, obviously, during 3X11 "Mystery Spot". :) I want to thank jojospn, mb64, kjdw, flygirl33, GuestJ, reannablue, and TG for their recent awesome reviews. And thanks to every reader! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

* * *

When the shotgun goes off and I see my brother crash to the floor, my whole world screeches to a halt.

All I can think is that Dean can't die. Not here, not like this… Not _now_.

Despite my denial his blood flows freely through the holes in his chest. He still coughs up scarlet as I drag his upper body into my lap, yelling for him to just stay with me.

For all my effort, he doesn't.

I see his eyes glass-over in that way that only death can cause…The light blinks out from somewhere deep behind my brother's pupils and now I'm only staring at an empty shell; A mirror of the emptiness that suddenly engulfs me…

Then, just as suddenly, its Tuesday morning again.

I shoot awake to find Dean sitting on the bed next to mine. He's singing along to the random song by Asia that blares from the alarm clock radio. He's cracking wise-ass remarks about my sleeping habits and that light behind his eyes is as bright as ever.

I've never been more grateful to wake up from a dream.

* * *

I've grown to hate waking up because every morning its Tuesday again, and every Tuesday I watch my brother die.

That first time with the shotgun blast was unbearable.

The next time with the car accident left me shocked and devastated.

The time he choked on breakfast was discouraging.

The piano thing just pissed me off.

The dog thing pissed me off even more.

I think this last one was the hardest of all because I didn't even flinch. I was so eager to grab that ax from Dean that I didn't even react when I accidentally killed him with it in the process. I didn't feel a thing, unless I count my frustration with this entire situation…

Something in me has broken and I'm scaring myself.

I just want this string of Tuesdays to end.

* * *

I am trying desperately to get back to Tuesday because Tuesday was better. Tuesday wasn't Wednesday… Wasn't _this_.

_Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!_

I close my eyes tight and strain my ears for the sound of Asia's "Heat of the Moment". Of my brother teasing me about that stupid song.

I listen for the sound of my big brother, but all I hear is the echo of that gunshot in my mind followed by Dean's final breath…gasping, wheezing.

I hear nothing that I can bear to listen to, and when I open my eyes I'm still kneeling on the asphalt cradling Dean's dead body.

It's still Wednesday, and I can't wake up.

* * *

I wake up and it's Wednesday again, but this Wednesday is different.

I see him standing by the sink, smirk in place, making fun of the new song on the radio. But I'm not listening, I'm too busy walking towards him; taking in the reality of what I'm seeing.

After six months of experiencing nothing but aching, mechanical depression…He's back.

Now I'm grabbing my brother and trying my best to crush him with a hug because he's really, actually _back_.

I hold on longer than is acceptable in Dean's book, but I don't care since I'm still not ready to let go. I'm scared that if I do he'll somehow be gone again...

Dean cares though, because he asks "Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?"

"Enough." I respond, keeping my answer short. I can't think of a better way to put it anyway.

I finally allow myself to let go, and breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn't disappear.

Dean is truly alive again, and for the first time in six months and more than a hundred Tuesdays, so am I.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Sorry, I know I said I had lighter requests coming up, and I _did_ try to make this lighter, but it just wasn't working that way. :P I promise, there is lighter stuff in line, really! (I know this with certainty, because the rough draft of one of them is already written) ;) And feel free to toss more requests my way! Also, reviews are much appreciated. :D **


	16. Persnickety

**Warning: Minor and very general spoilers ****(even in the Author's Note) **for season 8, specifically right after 8x12 "As Time Goes By". 

**Author's Note: This is for GuestJ who requested a drabble in which "Dean uses the word 'persnickety'." :D This one takes place very soon after Sam and Dean discover the Men of Letters Bunker in season 8. (Shortly after 8x12 "As Time Goes By") :) I want to thank jojospn, ImpalaLove, mb64, GuestJ, flygirl33 and kjdw for their recent amazing reviews. And thanks to every reader! :D  
**

Sam entered the kitchen with his empty pasta bowl in hand, nodding at Dean who was busy completing an inventory check of the groceries in their cupboards.

Dean nodded back once before returning to the task of scrutinizing their near-empty shelves.

"We _really_ need to do a food run soon Sammy. Do you think you'll have time lat…Hey!" Dean interrupted himself when he spotted Sam mid-way through depositing his dirty bowl into the sink.

Sam froze, looking around slightly confused, and asked, "What?"

"Don't just leave that in there! You need to clean it out and put it away." The older Winchester instructed with a scowl.

"Dude, it's just one bowl. I can clean it out later…" Sam said. "And since when do you care about dirty dishes anyway?" he added, taken aback by his brother's reaction.

"Since I got a kitchen to get all persnickety about, that's when." Dean replied before pointing at the dish soap and sponge next to the sink and giving Sam what could only be described as a 'mom look'.

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't protest further as he picked up the sponge and poured some soap onto it.

If Dean wanted to get fussy over all the minor details in their new kitchen, then Sam wouldn't really deny him that privilege. Because his brother had made a subtle, yet valid point. This _was_ Dean's first time having a kitchen of his own…

So the younger man opted for teasing his sibling about something more peripheral instead.

"'Persnickety' Dean, seriously?" Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother's choice of adjective as he scrubbed the bowl out.

"What? It's a fun word!" Dean insisted, turning back to the cupboards. "Now, will you have time to go grocery shopping with me later or not? I'm sure you'll want to be there. I know how persnickety you get about your produce…"

"Now you're going to keep saying it to annoy me, aren't you?" Sam accused.

"Am not! Geez. What are you, the word police?" Dean grummbled while his younger sibling stopped cleaning the bowl and eyed him with suspicion.

Dean kept his face neutral until Sam gave up and went back to scrubbing.

"And since when did you get so persnickety about my vocabulary anyway?"

Sam turned from the sink and flicked soapy water at his brother in response, but he was smiling.

He would never admit it to the older Winchester, but Sam was kind of enjoying having the kitchen too. It wasn't his first, since he'd had one during his time at college, but still...

Looking at Dean's pretend-angry face as he wiped soap suds from his cheek and told Sam to "Hurry it up! I wanna get to the store before dinner so I can actually cook tonight."

Sam couldn't help but think this kitchen was nicer.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Requests and reviews are amazing. Please throw them at me. :D **


	17. Clemency

**WARNING: Spoilers contained (even in the Author's Note) for season 9, especially 9x10 "Road Trip"!**

**Author's Note: This is for mb64 who requested a drabble incorporating the word "amazing". It takes place during the end of 9x10 "Road Trip" while Castiel contemplates the day's events and watches that last exchange between Dean and Sam. (The scene where Dean leaves.) I want to thank kjdw, mb64, jojospn, flygirl33, Lewlou15, TG, and GuestJ for their recent reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. **

Castiel didn't realize the weight of what Dean had suggested until after the fact.

He had been worried first and foremost about Sam's well-being, and intertwined with that concern was his apprehension regarding Dean. It was difficult to separate the two issues, after all, since Dean's state of mind is always rather dependent upon Sam's state of health.

So Castiel's thoughts were quite preoccupied with doubt regarding the plan for assisting Sam in ousting Gadreel, and he didn't stop to think about one of the details of that plan. It was only much later that evening that the thought occurred to him…

Dean had suggested that Castiel possess Sam _before_ turning to Crowley. The King of hell was the last resort, but Castiel had been the first.

Of course Dean had been desperate for a way to help his brother, and such desperation could easily push Dean to do things he would otherwise not prefer. The whole Gadreel situation had actually arisen from such a predicament…

Yet Castiel noticed there was no hesitation in Dean's voice as his friend asked him to enter the younger man. Not in the way there was when he discussed with Crowley the same proposal as a "plan C".

This sudden realization left Castiel feeling…Well, it left him feeling as if he had let go of some great weight at last.

The angel had not once forgotten his direct responsibility for the collapse of Sam's internal wall, or the fact that he had nearly destroyed Sam entirely by allowing his memories of Hell to resurface. And until that moment in the warehouse, Castiel had been certain Dean had not forgotten any of it either.

But now? Well, even though Castiel knew Dean had not really _forgotten_ those events, he was equally aware that Dean had clearly forgiven him for them.

Dean had offered his little brother's brain up for Castiel to wander inside of, but the truly interesting part was that he did so with zero resentment toward the suggestion. The older Winchester had openly trusted Castiel with Sam's mind, even after the way the angel had damaged it in the past.

It was truly amazing, Dean's ability to forgive those he considered to be family. And not just _say_ they were forgiven, but genuinely _believe_ they were.

Castiel sighed at that thought since, unfortunately, he knew he couldn't return the favor by relieving Dean of any of his own guilt. Not for want of his belief that Dean deserved forgivness, but because if there was one thing more impressive than Dean's ability to forgive others, it was his inability to offer himself that same clemency.

A fact that was only emphasized as Castiel watched Dean walk away from his brother, forehead creased in shame and the determination to right his wrong, yet never let go of his guilt over it.

The angel sighed again and followed Sam to their vehicle. Maybe one day Dean would learn to discard some of his remorse like he had just helped Castiel abdicate a part of his own.

On that day, the angel would be there to encourage him, but for now, Castiel did the only other thing he could to make things better for Dean…He climbed into the car with Sam and set off to heal the younger man of his injuries, grateful that he could directly help at least one of his friends.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Reviews and requests are awesome. *wink wink* lol **


	18. The Right Call

**WARNING: Spoilers contained (even in the Author's Note) for season 3, especially 3X08. **

**Author's Note: This is for ebonywarrior85, who requested a drabble including the word "birthday". This was requested because Dean's birthday is today, and since I was already going to do a drabble for the occasion, I decided this request would do nicely. :) This one takes place the January 24th right after 3x08 "A Very Supernatural Christmas". (Dean really wanted Sam to celebrate one last real Christmas with him in that episode.) I want to thank Lewlou15, jojospn, mb64, flygirl33, ImpalaLove, kjdw, GuestJ, and ebonywarrior85 for their recent reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural. **

Dean woke up to the sound of the Doobie Brothers' "China Grove" drifting from the radio-alarm clock on the nightstand. He blinked his eyes a few times to adjust to the sunlight peeking through half-drawn shades and then glanced around for his brother.

Sam was standing with his back to the beds, clearly preoccupied with something on their table.

"Morning." Dean said to draw his brother's attention.

"Oh, hey! You're not supposed to be up yet…" Sam called back, turning around quickly to face his older sibling. However, he stood directly in front of whatever was on the table and kept it just out of his brother's line of vision.

"Uh…This might surprise you, but the alarm we've been using for the past two days here still works." Dean said with a sarcastic smile before trying to peer around his little brother's enormous frame. He frowned up at Sam when he didn't succeed. "What's up?" Dean asked with a gesture toward the table.

Sam ignored Dean's question and responded to his first statement instead. "Oh, right…I meant, I lost track of time. But that's not important. You're up, so…Hang on." The younger man turned back around and Dean heard the tell-tale sound of a lighter being ignited.

Sam faced Dean once more, but this time he held a bakery box in his arms. He approached Dean's bed and lowered the container so Dean could observe the fresh cherry pie inside, topped with a healthy amount of blue and white candles.

Dean didn't need to count them to know there were 29, because of course his brother had remembered...

"Happy Birthday Dean!" Sam said with a small smile. "Go on and blow them out."

Dean took a deep breath and blew all the candles out but one. "Damn it." He sighed while Sam laughed.

"That's what I get for getting old…" Dean joked, blowing once more to finish the last candle.

Sam took the pie back to cut and serve, at which point Dean noticed the small clump of wrapped objects also on the table. His presents, no doubt…But instead of the Winchester patented newspaper-and-brown-bag wrappings, these were done up in balloon patterned paper, like something right out of a party catalog.

"Sam, what's all this for?" Dean asked, finally climbing out of bed and walking over to stand next to his sibling.

"Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday...Man, you _are_ getting old!" Sam teased, trying to avoid answering the question he knew Dean was asking.

Dean would not be distracted. "Seriously though. I mean, you even used stuff the newspaper guy didn't deliver yesterday morning..." He said, nodding towards the presents.

It didn't upset Dean. In fact, he found it all to be a pleasant deviance from their usual routine. He was grateful, he just didn't understand what had prompted Sam to get all cliche about the day.

Sam looked lost for a moment, as if he was doubtful that he had made the right call regarding the celebrations. Dean could practically see the words "maybe Dean doesn't want me to do this" written all over the kid's face. "Well, Christmas was kind of last minute or I'd have wrapped those right too…" Sam let his sentence trail off.

It hit the older Winchester pretty quickly that his brother was going off his lead. About a month ago Dean had asked to celebrate one last Christmas, _really_ celebrate it, so he could have that memory before Hell. Sam was merely extending the sentiment to include his birthday too. And to really celebrate a birthday meant having candles and actual wrapping paper and all the good stuff.

Sam was just trying to give Dean what he believed his brother actually wanted for his birthday, and if Dean weren't so uncomfortable with open displays of emotion, he'd have hugged his brother to thank him. Instead, he settled for his usual method of expressing brotherly affection.

"Then how come you didn't sing? If you're doing all this birthday stuff, you can't _not_ sing the cheesy song…" Dean said with an approving smile, hoping that Sam understood.

Sam laughed. "Let's just say your ears will thank me for not serenading you, ok?" The taller man said with a roll of his eyes, but he definitely looked relieved as he passed Dean his celebratory slice of birthday pie.

Of course Sam understood. He always did.

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Happy Birthday to the lovely Dean Winchester. Here's to hoping this year treats him better than the last, um...Basically every year since he was four years old. lol Also, please feel free to load me up with requests, and reviews are just splendid. ;) **


	19. Not Alone

**Author's Note: This is for GuestJ who requested I use the words "holding on". This takes place sometime mid-season 1 in my head, but there are no spoilers for any episodes. :) I want to thank Lewlou15, jojospn, TG, mb64, GuestJ, ebonywarrior85, and reannablue for their recent reviews and support. And thanks to every reader! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.**

* * *

Sam is in pain. His abdomen is throbbing where the poltergeist hurled a brick at him. His thighs are bruised and slightly bloody from having a table rammed into them, pinning him to a wall with enough force to break skin. And the dull ache in his head is a constant reminder that collisions between pottery and human skulls do not end well.

Still, he knows he could have it worse. He could be lying in a hospital bed recovering from the effects of a pneumothorax; a collapsed lung brought on by several ribs snapping and puncturing the vital organ. He could also have twenty two stitches holding his torso together because it wasn't a brick, but a jagged shard of glass, that the poltergeist had tossed that time.

Sam could be where his brother is right now.

The older Winchester is unconscious, oblivious to his younger sibling's presence. But Sam is there. He has refused to leave despite persistent nurses telling him to go home and get some rest.

Because something Dean said earlier has stuck with him…

* * *

"_Dean!" Sam called out to his brother after finally lighting up the last of the poltergeist's remains. A soft cough was all that answered him and Sam rushed back to his sibling's side. _

_Dean's stomach was slashed open, not deep enough to threaten anything crucial, but severe enough to make blood loss a genuine concern. The wound had turned Dean into a disturbing contrast of dark red and sheet-white, and Sam was fighting the urge to panic as he went to press his own jacket into the cut. _

"_Hang in there man." He said, trying to sound strong, not wanting to let Dean know how shaken he felt._

_Pressing on the gash, Sam noticed something even more unnerving. The rise and fall of his brother's chest seemed concentrated on just one side, and his breath seemed to come in short, strangled gasps. _

"_S'my" Dean chocked out. "My lung…" There was another pained intake of breath before he continued. "Lung's flat." he finished the declaration with great effort. _

_It was then that the tell-tale trickle of blood started to seep from the corner of Dean's mouth, and Sam knew there wasn't much time. _

_Dean was telling him that his lung had collapsed, and that meant that his brother was only able to breathe halfway. But more importantly, there was blood pooling into his damaged lung now, and that spelled serious trouble if they didn't get him to a doctor fast. _

_The younger Winchester hurriedly wrapped Dean's wound with his jacket, and half-dragged him toward the Impala. During the anxious drive to the hospital Sam couldn't help but think… _

_Dean knew what was wrong before the blood had appeared. He knew the symptoms by their _feeling_, not their appearance. _

_This had happened to Dean before. _

* * *

Now Sam runs a hand through his hair, watching Dean continue to sleep and brooding on the revelation that had struck him on the ride over to the ER.

In all their time hunting together Dean had never suffered a punctured lung. But then again, all their time hunting together isn't all of Dean's time hunting.

Sam stares at his brother and wonders just how many major injuries the other man had suffered through in Sam's absence. How many times had Dean been bleeding or broken, and he didn't have someone there to drag him to safety?

Dean had admitted that their father had sent him on hunts by himself... Had that hunt been one of those solo jobs? Had his brother stabbed a rib into his lung and laid somewhere, suffocating and alone, before help had miraculously arrived?

Sam places his head in his hands and suppresses a shiver at the thought of his brother lying dead because no one had made it in time…

But they did. Someone had made it in time then, and Sam had been there this time.

Sam is holding on to his brother's hand now, determined to make sure that when Dean wakes up, he'll see that he isn't alone.

* * *

A few hours later Dean opens his eyes and blinks at the bright fluorescent hospital lighting. His chest hurts where the doctor had to stab him and re-inflate his lung, and the stitching in his torso is no picnic…But it's the small pressure on his hand he notices most.

Dean turns to find the source and sees his little brother next to him.

Sam is asleep; his body is hunched forward in his chair with his head resting on Dean's mattress, and one hand is still gripping his older brother's loosely.

And Dean can't help but smile, just glad the kid is safe.

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This was just a little look at the dynamic between the guys in the earlier seasons. (Because I need to be reminded of the better times after last night's episode. *sigh*) As always, reviews and requests are welcome! :) **


	20. Lyrical

**Author's Note: This is for Olivia Crane, who requested I use the word "lyrical". It**** takes place in Stull Cemetery sometime after 5x22 "Swan Song", and it's a bit of a different angle than I'm used to, so I hope it turned out ok. I want to** thank Lewlou15, reannablue, jojospn, A Guest, Olivia Crane, ImpalaLove, mb64, and flygirl33. And a big thank to every reader as well. :) 

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Supernatural.**

* * *

Susan walked through the cemetery with her camera in hand. She wasn't sure why she was there, to be honest. One minute she and her friends were watching "Haunted Places", and the next those friends were dragging her to some old bone yard to film their attempts at communicating with ghosts…

She blamed the several bottles of wine her friends had gone through that evening. Susan wasn't big on drinking, and normally that was ok. She was always happy to be the designated driver. Then again, that responsibility didn't typically include chauffeuring her friends to graveyards in the middle of the night so they could pretend they were paranormal investigators.

It was rather silly, Susan thought, that people believed cemeteries really housed souls. She wouldn't deny that such places had a certain creepy-factor working for them. The ground was full of dead people, after all… But to believe that people's souls were actually hanging around their old shells? She just wasn't able to buy that.

Suddenly Susan was pulled from her skeptical thoughts as her foot collided with a large stone lying in the grass.

"Ouch." She mumbled, stopping to check that her foot was ok while her friends continued on, oblivious to the fact that she wasn't with them. The light on her camera fell upon the stone as she examined her foot, and that was when the engraving caught her attention.

It looked like the stone was some kind of informal grave-marker, with deep grooves crisscrossing its surface. The carvings were rough and jagged, almost as if the person who put them there had been angry at the rock.

Still, upon closer inspection it became clear that the scratches were actually words etched into the stone, and she couldn't resist reading:

_This is for Sammy_

_He is everything to me and he gave everything for you_

_You will never know him and I will never forget_

Susan continued to stare at the stone for several minutes. She read the words a few times over, trying to really grasp what they meant because they felt important. They were lyrical, with an emotional depth she had a hunch that she could never fully appreciate, but still wanted to try.

Her friends, having finally noticed her absence, called out for her to catch up with them. Susan did her best to shake off the heavy feeling that had settled on her shoulders as she slowly rose from where she knelt in the grass.

At last she was able to walk away, but her heart ached for the one who she suspected never left that stone. Not really, anyway.

_I will never forget._

Maybe she had been wrong. Perhaps some souls really did stay in cemeteries...

* * *

**Secondary Author's Note: Thanks for reading! ****This request was a true challenge to write, but I love a challenge, so thank you again Olivia Crane! And more requests are always welcome people so feel free to toss them my way. :) Oh, and reviews are also greatly appreciated. ;) **

******P.S. In my head, I'm imagining Dean would have left a marker for Sam in Stull********, but it would have been hand made and emoition driven, of course, hence the aggressively carved stone. ;) **


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